The Alchemist's Love
by DeadMeat
Summary: An angsty, romantic one-shot about a womans thoughts regarding her love, an State Alchemist. [Complete]


**Title:**     The Alchemist's Love

**Author: **   Dead^Meat (deadmeat@bhlegend.com) 

**ICQ:**       7790861    (Auth. req - state who you are when you ask)

*Note: I almost never use ICQ anymore, but if you want my MSN address, please e-mail me to the address above.*

**Dates of revision:**    2004-02-08 v 0.50 (Started)

                      2004-02-09 v 1.00 (Finished)

* Disclaimer: Characters from Full Metal Alchemist have been used without permission. All characters contained in this work are copyright their respective studio. No money was made from this.

* Reading: 

"d" - Denotes speaking

'd' - Denotes thinking

_d_ - Denotes punctuation

|d| - Denotes sound effects

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Chapter one: The Alchemist's Love 

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'He's back again.' The young woman thought, as she walked up and gave the new-arrival a warm hug, which he hesitantly returned, not wanting to soil her with the dirt off his coat and the dried sweat covering him.

"How long will you stay?" She asked him, her head buried in his right shoulder.

"Not long," He replied, this voice echoing weariness, and sadness. "I'm just passing through, and thought of staying over now that I'm here."

"I see." She mumbled, her voice morose and dispirited, but she was used to this. Sighing, she gave him a quick squeeze, pulled herself away from him and looked him in the eye. "Dinner, or do you want to clean yourself first?"

"I think I'll take a bath first," He confessed, averting his eyes away and started taking off his coat. "I don't want this smell to linger on me any longer than it has to." 

The woman turned around and headed off into the bathroom, where she lit the small stove underneath the tub, fed the fire with a few bricks until it burned with a warm, red flame and turned the water-crank.

Exiting the bathroom, she scurried towards the kitchen where she prepared a steaming cup of tea, and brought it into a small office, where the man sat and frowned into a glass-bowl sitting on the desk.

"It's still alive?" He asked, incredulous, as he accepted the cup of tea and thanked her for it.

"Well, yes . since you gave it to me, I've been feeding the goldfish with bread, and that kept it alive."

"Amazing ." The man exclaimed, sipping his tea, still staring deeply at the orange, wiggly thing occupying his glass-bowl. "How life can be so . unpredictable ."

Not liking his tone, the woman quickly changed the subject, telling him that the bath was almost ready, and that he should prepare himself.

Nodding, but still keeping his eyes on the fish, he told her that he would, soon. Not expecting any more, the woman returned to the kitchen, where she started to heat up the stew from lunch, added some more meat and vegetables into it and sliced a few pieces of bread to go with it.

Finished with dinner, the woman made sure the fire was put out before she headed for the bathroom, from which she heard the unmistakable sound of water splashing on the floor. She knocked lightly on the door, and asked the man inside whether he wanted someone to scrub him off.

After a slight hesitation, her offer was accepted and she entered the bathroom and quickly took off her clothes, under the intense scrutiny of the man.

"You've been gaining weight, haven't you?" He asked her with an odd, teasing grin on his face, but his eyes were emitting the affection and care he had for her. 

Pouting, she seized the brush in his hand and gave him a light whack on his head with it.

"You just sit down, and I'll do this for you." Having told him that, she made him sit on a low stool, sat herself on a similar stool behind him, and started to lather him up with soap.

Having the familiar sight of his back in front of her, she thoroughly examined him, being careful not to open up the few new scars he had acquired. They were faint, and seemed recently healed, and they were all nothing compared to the long scar running across his back, from his right shoulder to his left hip. He let no one else touch it but her, and never let it heal or be healed. 

As she cleaned him off, she accidentally brushed on it, instantly making him tense up and cautious, but after a while he visibly relaxed, letting his rigid shoulders drop, sighing as he did so. Not long after that, he insisted that he was clean enough, and that it was her turn.

As always, the woman closed her eyes and let herself enjoy the feeling of the mans strong hands stroke and massage her back, often letting it stray to areas he liked to touch, but never too far, nor too deep. Soon, he declared himself finished with this, and after a quick douse of water on them both he dragged her into the warm tub.

Leaning back against his lean chest, enjoying the warm water soothe her skin, they spent some time talking and kissing, catching up on events and stuff that happened since the last time, and generally just enjoying the feel and comfort of being close to each other, a rare event nowadays. 

As the fire burned out, and the water started to cool down, the conversation faded, and silence filled the room. After a while, the man gently cupped his hands over her breasts, forcing his lips against hers as she turned around to protest. As he squeezed them, gently at first but increasingly rougher and rougher, the woman pulled back, feeling all flushed and panting heavily, and protested weakly, telling him that dinner would get cold. But then she made the mistake of looking into his eyes, and the passion burning inside them overwhelmed her, making her blush and give her all to him.

Pleased that he had won the war, he continued with his delicate ministering, increasing the heat between them step by torturously slow step. Her lips since long sealed with his, both of their eyes closed and focused on the heightening pleasure, his hands soon moved downward towards her means of becoming one, and showed her the love and passion he had for her under the cloudless, moonlit night.

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An hour later, they were lying on the bed, naked and exhausted, but having a blissful feeling of satisfaction. As she lay there, with him spooned behind her, hugging her from the back, she felt the familiar smell of him coming back to her.

It was a smell that she had felt in all her life, for period after short period, but one she never grew tired of enjoying. It was often stained, and corrupted by the smell of road dirt after his trips, but always after a bath, and after they had spent some time together, she would feel it again, and always after that she would feel joy, contentment and security. But she would also feel longing, sadness, and regret.

Digging her fingers in between his, she pressed them deeper, tighter against her naked skin, and wished with all her heart that they would never let go.

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The next morning, as she woke up, she immediately felt the all too familiar feeling of coldness. Like a child lost and alone in the dark woods, her hands reached out behind her and tried to grasp her security line, the one thing that would lead her back home. Prove to her that it wasn't only a cruel and fleeting dream. But she found nothing but a cold, and empty bed.

Standing up, she shakily pulled on her nightgown and stumbled out of the bedroom, a feeling of panic welling inside her, taunting her and telling her that it was all a lie, a lie! There is no such thing as happiness in this world, it is all a sham to make us miss what we lack the most. 

Feeling close to hysteria, she finally noticed that the door to the office was open, and her feeling of dread was quelled ever so slightly as she cautiously peaked inside of it.

There he was, sitting on his chair and wrote in his book like he always did when he was home, looking melancholy and thoughtful. And in pain.

As she watched over him like a mother over her child, at last in control of her own feelings, she saw him cloud up, made a shaking fist and desperately tried to keep his emotions in check as he clamped his eyes shut, while wheezing heavily. Knowing that she shouldn't bother him, that he would be over it in a while, she could not stop herself from feeling worry, sympathy, and an unconditional love for him. Whatever he had done in the past, and whatever accomplishments, and failures, he had behind him, she would love him always.

As he made it past the critical phase, and started to write again, a sense of relief flushed away all the bad feelings from her, and with light steps she went to the kitchen to fix him breakfast and a cup of tea.

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Soon, the inevitable happened.

"I have to go." He told her, with an obvious tone of sadness and regret in it.

"Okay." She said, once again accepting his unvoiced apology, and helped him put his coat on. As he was finished, and seemed ready to go, she hesitantly reminded him of something important, something he always had to do before he left on a journey.

"Edward, don't forget to say good bye to your brother."

Staring into her eyes, he blinked, and a despondent smile flashed over his rugged face. Breaking eye contact, he walked over to a large suit of armor hanging on the wall, stroking it affectionately.

"Good bye, little brother." He told it, a master of his own emotions. "Please take care of Winry for me, while I am gone."

Standing by the door, Winry gave him his backpack and received a long, warm hug in return.

"I love you, Winry." He told her, staring deep into her eyes, making sure that she understood him perfectly.

"I love you too, honey." She told him back, giving him a last kiss before breaking contact.

"Take care." He reminded her, and he turned around to walk out of the door, out of her life for yet another period.

"You too." Winry said, and leaned against the door-frame, hugging herself while watching Edward walk away and once again leaving her alone, alone to her feelings, her emotions, letting her deal with everything by herself.

As she saw him turn around and wave back at her with his right, mechanical arm that she had made for him, before disappearing beyond a hill, she thought about past discussions with her friends, and what most people thought of alchemists.

These mysterious and seemingly all-powerful men and women are of a class for themselves, dealing with ways clouded and unknown for the general masses. They seem high above and out of reach for the common people, presumably relying on their skill to get them over any difficulty placed in their path, and everyone wishes to become like one, always wondering what it feels like to be able to do almost anything.

But what they don't know, is that it is all an illusion, made and created to distance themselves from the frightening reality that everything is fated to perish and crumble. Alchemists may seem to be able to crush or restore hope at will, yet like everyone else, they are still human, deep inside, with all it's implications.

They're humans, just like us, yet not limited like us.

They get the same feelings, yet we cannot understand them.

The feel the same emotions, yet we cannot encompass them.

They crave the same things, yet we cannot supply them.

They lack the same things, yet we do not believe them.

It may be true that nobody who is not an alchemist could ever hope of understanding what it's like to be an alchemist.

Yet the best way to find out, is to become an alchemist's wife.

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The End 

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Author's Notes:

Hello there.

I hope you all enjoyed this short one-shot I wrote for a few hours, during one night, with the following morning used for slight modifications and editing.

The reason why I wrote this, was that I was challenged. A friend of mine, a dedicated fan of my other story The Move (a straight HnG fanfic), who is also a FMA-freak told me he might start his fanfiction career with an FMA-fic, now that an FMA-section was opened at FFN.

I told him great, then get cranking!

He asked me if I'd write one as well, and as I took that as a challenge, we set a deadline (two weeks for him, one week for me, self-imposed. Not a challenge otherwise). I'm glad to say that I met that deadline with a big, safe marginal.

Of course, it was not all easy, but last night I found myself thinking about various situations Ed and Winry could be in, and soon developed an idea that I just had to put into words. And here they are.

It is my first fic which aims to feel angst, yet I could not help but add romance into the pot. That's how I am, I guess. 

I hope I managed to at least give you an idea of the deep emotions between them, and maybe you could guess a few of the events hinted in the fic. 

On another note, this is my first, but not last, R-rated story. What I would like to know is, what is limited by the R-rating? What is the major, critical difference between the nowadays non-existent NC17 rating here at FFN, and the R-rating taking over it's role?

I need to know, for future reference, and I hope that I did not pass that point with the implied lime-scene in this story.

Last, but not least, I thank you all for reading this piece, and I hope I wrote something that you all enjoyed, so please tell me of your feelings regarding it with the comments-feature. 

It is the only way for me to get feedback on the stories I write, since practically no-one e-mails me, and therefor critical for me to learn and grow as an author, and to write better stories in the future. Even if it's just someone saying "Splendid!", it helps me feel that I made a good job, and encourages me to make more.

Please take care, and I'll be seeing you.

Yours

/DeadMeat


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